


Assistance Required

by spaceislife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra is scared of Peter Parker, I'll explain, Peter Parker and James Barnes do NOT hook up, Peter is a genius, i don't know how to write, i really hope I finish this story, if you want to adopt this you absolutely can, just send me the finished product when you're done!, like seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceislife/pseuds/spaceislife
Summary: After the Winter Soldier drags his mission out of the Potomac River he has no where to go, and no one he can trust, he goes to someone he remembers from his briefings, someone that his handlers told him to avoid at all cost...Aka, the story of how Peter gets a roommate, and finds out that he scares Hydra shitless.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter shot up out of bed with the hair standing up on the back of his neck, and a racing heart. He tried to remember how to breathe normally, but it was useless. After a nightmare like that, he wasn’t calming down for at least a couple hours if he didn’t find something else to focus on. Groaning under his breath, he looked at the clock, and only just stopped himself from groaning out loud. 2:37, meaning that he had only gotten about an hour and a half of sleep. There was no way he was going back to bed now. Softly moaning as he got out of bed, he stepped out of his room, and when downstairs. He lived alone, so he didn’t have to worry about hiding his bruises and scars from anyone. Apparently, his latest injury was going to take longer to heal than being punched in the face by Taskmaster. Not surprising, considering he had gotten shot. He may have a fairly good healing factor, but there was no way he could heal from a bullet wound in less than two hours. Hmm. He wondered if he should have timed it, just so that he would have an idea about what to expect, just incase this happened again, so that he would know what to expect. Well, too late for that now, he thought.  
Grumbling under his breath he turned into the kitchen, and froze. There was someone at the back door. Well, more slumped against it than anything else. In fact they weren’t even facing the inside of the house. It was like someone had gotten into his backyard, walked up to the door, sat down with their back against the section that didn’t move, and just fell asleep. Maybe they’re dead his brain unhelpfully supplied. ¨Shut up,¨ he murmured before groaning slightly. Great. Not only did he had some, hopefully not dead, stranger on his back porch, but he was going insane from sleep deprivation. God, he just wanted eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. He hadn't slept more than three hours a night since the bullshit that was Washington D.C., and that had been over a month ago. He kinda wanted to cry just thinking about it.  
Forcefully shaking himself out of his thoughts, he creeped forward, silently cursing himself under his breath for not grabbing his web shooters. He reached the door, braced himself, and slowly opened the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The Asset had no idea what he was doing. He had already disobeyed orders by saving his Mission, and now he was ignoring his programming, telling him to go to base for debriefing, wiping, and cryo. He couldn’t go in. They would kill him for his disobedience. He had to find a place where they would never look for him, somewhere they would think he wouldn't think of as a possible safe point. He had to go to New York. He had to find The Child.   
——————  
As the Asset made his way to the various emergency bases on the way to The Child, he thought about what he knew from briefings. He knew it because they told him this every time he was on a mission in the past…Five? Ten? He couldn’t remember, years. Every time it was the same message, over and over again. They had engrained it into his programming, do not, under any circumstances, make contact with The Child. They will destroy us if they find you. Do not let them. He didn’t understand why. They never told him. All he knew was that if he found The Child, they would not find him.  
——————  
The Asset was in what he thought was Southern Pennsylvania when he woke up with what felt like a sledgehammer in his head. James. The name flashed in his head, along with images he didn’t recognize. A little girl in a bright orange dress playing outside. A small blond boy getting into a fight with two, much larger, boys for picking on a slight brunette girl with pigtails. Him wiping dirt out of a cut the small blond boy’s cheek. Him and the same small blond boy, both bigger now, but the blond by only a few inches, living together. The small blond boy painting, with water and paint alike streaked across his face. Him, keeping the small blond boy warm one winter, the both of the, curled up together in a bed to small, with ratty blankets, and him being to afraid to go to sleep, fearing he might wake up next to a body, every cough and shiver sending fear racing through him. Him making the small blond boy, Steve, his mind whispered, smile, laugh, shout. Him and Steve, together till the end of the line.   
That was the first time James cried since becoming the Asset.   
——————  
238, 179th street, Queens, New York.   
238, 179th street, Queens, New York.   
238, 179th street, Queens, New York.   
He had to get there. He had to. He’d be safe there. He hoped.  
——————  
Stumbling slightly, James jumped into the backyard of 238, 179th street, Queen, New York. He was so tired. He hadn’t slept or eaten since that night in Pennsylvania, and while he had gone longer without both, he was still injured from his fight with his Mission, Steve his mind cried, and he wasn't able to perform intensive repairs on himself. Halfway to the back door, he stopped short. What was he going to say? He didn't know what The Child was like, or even if they would help him. He didn't know their designation, no, name, that's the word. He didn't know their name. He just knew that The Child scared his handlers. He didn't even know why, just that they were strong and that they were young. Which didn't make sense. He was strong, and he didn't scare his handlers. And if The Child were young, surely they were untrained. Right?   
It didn't matter. He had to get to The Child. They were the only way he could escape his handlers. He had to think of a way to persuade the Child to assist him. Maybe it could wait till morning. Perhaps the The Child would be more likely to assist him if the both of them were operating at optimal capacity.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter edged the door open, his heart pounding. Why was he so nervous? It was probably just some homeless guy. Except… he kind of looked familiar. Almost like he knew who it was. And his spidey-sense wasn’t telling him that there was anything off about this, but then again, it rarely did unless he was about to get stabbed in the face. If you’re Tony fucking Stark, I don’t care about my secret identity. I will kick your ass. He thought viciously. Peter let out a breath as the door opened all the way, and stepped outside.  
Later, Peter will think back on this moment and realize, his life didn’t go to shit when his parents died, when he got bitten by a radioactive spider, or even when his Uncle Ben died right in front of him. It wasn’t even when SHIELD fell. It was this exact moment when his life went to shit. And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
——————  
James jolted as the surface behind him shifted. He jumped to his feet, pulling out two knives, and whirling around, only to get a foot to the solar plexus. The force of the kick launched his back several feet, and landed on the ground hard. He flipped back onto his feet, and prepared himself for another attack, only… it didn’t come. The haze of adrenaline faded slightly, and he was able to focus on what he was seeing.   
There was a brunette boy, standing in a defensive position several feet from him, just outside the open door. He must have been the one to send him flying, but he didn’t look enhanced. In fact, he looked kind of, scrawny. He was fairly short, compared to James at least, standing at about 5’9”, and he certainly didn’t look like a fighter. But looks could be deceiving, as James was well aware. There was a sort of tension in his body, one that came with years of fighting, of being alone in the field. He knew it well. It was in his own body. But there was something else something he couldn’t place, it was almost-  
“Who are you?” James was jolted out of his thoughts by the query. “Why are you here?” After a slight hesitation, there was another question that made James realize exactly who he was speaking to. After all it’s not like anyone else would ask him that after he nearly stabbed them in the face, and they kicked him across the yard. “Are you okay?” James was talking to The Child.  
——————  
The dude wasn’t saying anything. Not one word. It was almost ridiculous. He had just launched the man across his backyard, and he hadn’t said one word. He was really starting to get concerned. He hadn’t even dropped his defensive stance. Slowly, so as not to startle the man, he took a step forward. The man across from him didn’t move. He took another step forward, and the man moved, but not in the way Peter expected. He didn’t jerk forward to attack, nor did he step backward to retreat. He flung his knives backward, and took a single step forward, reaching out, a word on his lips. What it was, Peter would never find out, because as soon as the man’s right foot hit the ground, he pitched forward, unconcious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly happy that you guys like this!! I can’t believe how many of you want me to continue this. I will definitely be updating this as often as possible, but my update schedule will be pretty random, and I have midterms next week, so I have a lot of essays to write, meaning I might not update for a while. But I will continue this, and I will try to work on the chapter legenth and paragraph separation. Thank you all so much for the comments, and I hope you like the chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

“Shit,” Peter breathed, and lunged forward towards the man. Peter was too far from the man though, and couldn’t catch him before he slammed into the ground. “Double shit,” he gasped as he reached the man, turning him onto his right side, and contemplating if he should call 911. That is until he felt something under his fingertips. Was that… metal? He looked at the man’s left hand, gloved, and then his right, not gloved, but definitely human. Knowing what he would find, but needing to be sure all the same, he reached out to peel off the man’s glove.   
Underneath, metal. The plates of the hand shifted slightly as he brought the hand up to examine it. It was real alright, and the plates were the most sophisticated piece of machinery he had ever seen. Quickly he ran his hand up both of the man’s arms. On the left, the strange hardness of the metal reached his shoulder and stopped suddenly at a ridge, most likely scar tissue. On the right, however, nothing. It was just a normal arm, at least what he could feel. Peter knew exactly who the man was, and he knew that he had to get him inside. He really hoped that the man hadn’t been followed, but that was beside the point. The Winter Soldier was injured, and he needed help. He had come to Peter specifically for help. Peter sighed, picked him up bridal style, and carried him into the house.  
——————  
James woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the sound of someone murmuring quietly to themselves. He panicked. Where was he? Who was that? What were they doing to him? Did they have him again? Oh god no. No, no, no, nonono! “Shhh, it's okay. You’re okay. You’re safe here. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’ve just got something in your side that I have to get out. You’re alright. Can you open your eyes for me?” James did as he was told, and came face to face with The Child.   
Well, looking at him more closely, James could see that The Child wasn’t really a child. Or at least, not anymore. He was still fairly young, with dark brown hair and vibrant green eyes. They looked like they were piercing into him, like they could read his every thought and emotion. It was unsettling. The Child smiled at him, but James could see the strain in it, the pain in his every movement. Was The Child, and he really needed to find out their name, hurt? Had they been hurt before now, or was it recent? James could see a scar above their right eye and on the left side of their neck, just over the jugular and carotid artery, but they were several years old. It made his blood boil that someone had harmed The Child, but there was something he was missing, something that he would have seen the second he had opened his eyes if he was functioning at full capacity.   
He tried to sit up only to be gently pressed back onto the bed beneath him. “You can’t sit up quite yet. You’ve got something buried here in your abdomen, and it looks like its been there for a while. The wound is infected a little, and there’s not much I can do about that without antibiotics, but if we keep it clean, then it should be able to heal okay, especially with the fact that you’ve almost been healing too quickly for me to be able to get this shard of you. What’s your name?” The Child said in a rush as they quickly put a clean towel over the wound in his abdomen in order to stem the sudden flood of blood welling over the edges of the puncture. The speed of the words made his head spin. Though, that may have been the blood loss. As his vision went dark, he was calm, as he knew he was safe with The Child.  
——————  
“Really? Again?” Peter asked incredulously as the Winter Soldier passed out for the second time in as many hours. Sighing, he focused on stemming the bleeding. “You didn’t even tell me your name!” Peter whispered harshly under his breath. He still wondered if he should have called 911, but he shook the thought off. Right now, the safest place for the Soldier was with Peter. And a bunch of civilians would be caught in the crossfire if someone went after the soldier in a hospital. Yeah. That, probably should have been his first reason. Not the whole, wanting to keep the international criminal/assassin that’s been around for over fifty years safe. Groaning, he realized what had happened. He had gotten attached. Already! That had to be a new record. Though there was that thing with Matt… Shaking his head, Peter got up to go get a bowl of water to clean the blood off the wound. Again. Sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter honestly had no idea what he was doing more than half the time. He was willing to admit that to himself. But this was ridiculous. There was no way that he was qualified to do this. The Winter Soldier was honestly a disaster. There was shrapnel in his gut, he was obviously exhausted, he probably hadn’t eaten in a while, to say nothing of his mental state. But he seemed to trust Peter. At least enough to warrant the goddamned Winter Soldier throwing away his weapons and passing the fuck out in Peter’s backyard. And what was that about anyway?   
From what Peter understood, the Winter Soldier was one of the most feared assassins in the world, operating for around fifty years. There was no way the dude passed out on the guest bed was over fifty years old. He didn’t even look thirty! But he had the metal arm, extremely advanced in technology, if not in design. Then there’s the fact that Peter kicked him in the gut, which is the only reason he knew there was shrapnel in there in the first place, and while he flew backward, he got right back up. Peter had taken the Juggernaut's fist to the solar plexus before, it had not been pleasant. Which reminded him, he still had a bullet wound to deal with. As he walked into the bathroom to grab the medkit, he contemplated putting his binder on after he checked the wound, before quickly dismissing the idea. He needed to be able to breathe for the conversation that was sure to come. Besides, he doubted that the Winter Soldier would care, and it would probably be irritating to the wound. With that, he took off his shirt and set to work.  
——————  
James woke up feeling more exhausted than when he passed out, and really fucking hungry. That was slightly concerning. Then there was the fact that he was alone when he could swear that the last time he was conscious, there was someone else there. Someone who could keep him safe, someone who knew what to to do, someone to… someone to protect?   
The Child! James’ mind screamed at him, and he lurched up and out of the bed he had been lying on. He had to find The Child, he had to, he had to, he, he, he. He was shocked out of his panicked thoughts by The Child bursting into the room, shirtless, blood on his abdomen, and strange gauntlets on his wrists. His eyes quickly scanned the room before landing on James, slightly crumpled to the floor, still hyperventilating.  
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” The Child murmured as they slowly advanced, taking care to present himself as harmless, though James knew it was far from the truth. It helped to calm him all the same. The Child stopped shortly before reaching him, hesitating with his hand outstretched towards James, as if, not afraid exactly, but unwilling to touch him without an indication from James displaying willingness to be touched. James provided the indication by lunging for The Child, wrapping his arms around the Child’s middle, careful to avoid the wound in The Child’s side, and dragging him into James’ lap. James then stood up off of the floor, and sat on the bed, taking The Child with him.  
The Child froze, tensed as if bracing for an attack, before slowly relaxing when it became evident that the only thing that James was interested in was proximity. He allowed The Child to shift slightly, moving into a more comfortable position, before locking his flesh arm around them, and not moving. The proximity of The Child relaxed James, until, finally, he drifted off to sleep, willingly losing consciousness for the first time in over a week.  
——————  
What. The. Fuck. Peter’s mind screamed at him, though his body showed no outward indication. What the actual everloving fuck!? Why?! Why does the crazy bullshit always happen to us? First the thing with Mom and Dad, then the fucking spider and Harry and Norman and fucking Venom and Flash. And now?! Now we are the fucking Winter Soldierś fucking teddy bear! We don´t even know their name! Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Peter thought viciously in his own mind. Peter willed his body to not tense up at the thoughts racing through his head, but it was futile, and the tensing of his body only added to his anxiety about the whole situation. Especially when he looked down, and realized that he wasn´t wearing a shirt. Perfect. Just perfect. He froze again, as the Soldier´s arms tensed around him, pulling him closer.   
He relaxed slightly, as the arms around him relaxed, and continued to relax as the events of the previous night, and the early morning caught up with him. He was exhausted, and he deserved to rest for a little bit. The blood from the gun-shot wound was clotting, and it should be mostly healed by morning, provided he gave his body enough energy to heal. He could sort out food for the both of them in the morning, he had enough groceries to last over a week, and he could figure out the man behind him´s name later. For now, that sounds like a later-Peter issue. With that thought, Peter drifted off to sleep, the warmth of the man at his back relaxing his muscles when he tried to curl up into a protective ball. That night, Peter slept better than he had since before he got bitten by the spider that changed his life. It was the most, and least, vulnerable he had ever been. And he reveled in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say that I´m posting this instead of writing one of my many essays. I am so happy that you guys like this story.   
> I also feel the need to say that James and Peter are not going to hook up. This is not that kind of story. At least between those two. There may be slash later, but I don´t know yet. Also, the apostrophe on my keyboard is broken? I´m not entirely sure, and I have no idea how it looks on another computer, but it´ś <\---- thereś an accent over my Sś, why? really weird on mine. Those are not supposed to be accent marks. Please tell me that those are not in the story. Iḿ <\---- too tired to check.   
> Anyway, I hope you guyś like it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a scene in this chapter where Peter has a panic attack, and remembers being raped by Skip. I have put "*******************" around it if you would like to skip the scene though.

James woke up when the warm, comforting weight on his chest started pulling away. Grumbling, he pulled it closer to him, keeping his hold on them tight enough to restrain, but not enough to hurt. The weight froze, tension coiling in their muscles. He tried to calm them down, murmuring comfortably, hopefully, under his breath in Russian, utter nonsense words really, and gently skimming his flesh hand over the skin underneath it. It seemed to help, to a point. So long as he kept his comfort light, without pressing down or restraining, the warmth on top of him seemed to melt into him, but the second his touch became restricting, the tension came back. So he kept his touch as light as he could, continuing to murmur Russian nonsense softly until the body relaxed completely over him. Only then did James actually open his eyes.  
It was The Child, face and body lax in sleep. This was the first time The Child had actually looked like a child. The slight wrinkles between their eyes softened, and their brow wasn’t furrowed. They looked relaxed, trusting, and vulnerable. But there was something else. Something he was missing. He didn’t know what it was, but it… not frightened, not quite, but concerned. Not for himself though. For The Child. Then he shifted slightly, and he knew exactly what concerned him about The Child. At least for the most part. Blood, just a bit of it, but recent, still warm and wet, on his abdomen. It wasn’t coming from him though. It was seeping out of a hole in The Child’s abdomen. A bullet hole. The Child had been shot.  
——————  
Peter jolted awake when he got flipped over, panicking even more when he saw the man crouched over him. Peter started to thrash, trying to get out of the other man’s grasp, but he couldn’t. The soldier was restraining Peter’s hands over his head using his metal arm, running his flesh hand over his naked chest and stomach, and Peter thrashed harder. But the panic made him jerky, less precise, and he couldn’t get free. Peter felt tears coming, and he tried to fight them back but he couldn’t.  
*******************  
The memories were coming back. Skip, his hands on Peter’s stomach, bringing them up higher and higher, to cup Peter’s face. Skip, his breath hot on Peter’s neck, panting with exertion. Skip, his rough voice telling Peter that this was okay, that it was right, that this would feel good if he just did as Skip asked. Skip, flooding his every sense, he couldn’t get away, he wasn’t strong enough.  
*******************  
He couldn’t do that again. No. Not again. Please don’t make me, please. Please, please, pleasepleasePLEASE! Peter screamed in his head, but he couldn’t get the words out. Suddenly the hand stopped roaming over his stomach, and Peter felt a flash of pain in his stomach, jerking him out of his memory induced panic. The soldier jumped off of him and ran out of the room. Peter could hear him rummaging around in his bathroom for something as he hesitantly sat up. He was still shaking and hyperventilating, and he struggled to get it under control. He couldn’t though, and was still shaking and panting by the time the soldier came back into the room, arms full of medical supplies. The soldier put them on the bed, before slowly coming over to Peter carrying a… blanket? He gently put it over Peter’s shoulders, before going back the pile of antiseptic, bandages, and suturing thread and needles. What. The fuck. Just happened.  
——————  
James didn’t know why The Child panicked when he was searching for the entry and exit wound, nor did he know why they started crying, but he couldn’t stop until he was sure that The Child wasn’t about to bleed out right in front of him. He ran out of the room and spotted two doors, one wide open with the door handle inside of the wall and hanging slightly off the hinges, and the other only slightly ajar. He ran into the first room and found that it was a bathroom. There were medical supplies on the counter and more in a black box on the floor. He gathered up what he could, before heading back to the room with The Child. He stopped several feet from the door.   
He could still hear The Child breathing harshly. Looking back at the other door, he thought that perhaps The Child would like something to help them regain equilibrium. He walked over to the door, opening it slowly. Inside was a bedroom, not cramped but not exactly spacious either. There was a poster on the wall of the periodic table, and on the desk there were small tools, and pieces of metal, the bed was made, not neatly, but the effort had been made. But despite that, the room seemed empty, barren. Like this wasn’t a place that was often occupied. It made him feel sad. The Child deserved to have a space they called their own. A place where they could feel safe, and like being there, but this room wasn’t it. This was a place to sleep and work. Nothing more.   
Shaking himself, he looked at the bed, and grabbed the softest blanket off it, before heading back the to the room. The Child was sitting up, shaking and breathing hard. Whatever, whoever, had made The Child react like this to contact, was going to beg for death long, long before it came. Making sure his expression was relaxed so as not to frighten The Child, he dropped the supplies on the bed. He walked over to The Child, blanket in hand, and slowly draped it over his shoulders, taking care to not touch The Child, not wanting to frighten him. Smiling softly at the slight confusion on The Child’s face, he walked over to the medical supplies, sorting out what he needed to be able to help this precious child.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long to come out. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. Thank you all so much for your support though. You would not believe how much it means to me that you all like this so much.
> 
> Unfortunately, the swim season is starting up, so I’ll have even less time to work on this story that usual between intermurals, tryouts, practices every day after school, and meets every Saturday at the least, but I’ll do what I can. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I’ll see you next time!

It took several minutes for Peter to calm down, and even longer for him to want to say anything, but that didn't seem to bother the soldier. As his breathing evened out his rational thought took over again. He looked down and saw that the wound in his side had opened again in his sleep, which must have been what spurred the soldier into action. Good job fuck up, you had a panic attack for no reason.   
Coughing slightly to break the silence, Peter sat up a bit more, and, hesitantly, asked “What's your name? Mine’s Peter.”  
The soldier stiffened slightly, before relaxing again. Or, relaxing as much as he was previously. “James,” he said quietly, as if afraid that if he said it too loudly, someone might hear, and take it away from him.   
Nice going, now he’s uncomfortable. Peter ignored his doubts, and nodded slightly, not knowing what else to say. He hated talking, so much so that after Skip, he learned ALS just so that he didn’t have to talk. It actually went pretty well, he didn’t have to talk to anyone but his Aunt May and Uncle Ben until, until he fucked up and got his Uncle Ben killed.   
He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating again until he felt James’s flesh hand on his chest, holding him steady. “It’s okay. It’s ok. You’re safe here Peter. I’ve got you, I have you.” The murmured mantra calmed him, until he was only shaking slightly. Distantly, Peter thought to question where the fuck James had learned to calm someone down from a panic attack, but he was too tired to give a crap. Then he looked down, and realized he was shirtless and goddammit.   
He could pass easily enough with a too large shirt, or better yet one of Matt’s sweatshirts (the man may have been on the short side of things, but he was still much taller and bulkier than Peter), being able to throw a couple semi-trucks had it benefits when his already small chest came into play. He had even designed his suit to hide his chest without constricting his movement or breathing enough to be dangerous, but without a shirt, it was easy to tell that those were in fact breasts, and not weird pectorals. He gripped the blanket around him tighter and pulled it around his chest. Why did this always happen to him?  
——————  
James didn’t know why Peter had started panicking again but he hated it. There was something inside him that felt as though Peter was good, pure, in a way that James could never be after all the pain he had caused so many people. But James had to focus on Peter. He went back to the medical supplies to get some painkillers, but when he got back to Peter’s side and held them out to him, he shook his head.   
“Painkillers hurt me more than they help me. My metabolise them too quickly, and it leaves me groggy and slow, without actually doing anything for the pain.” Peter spoke quietly, like he didn’t actually want to be heard. James didn’t know what to say to that, but it sounded familiar. He knew that painkillers didn’t work very well on him, leaving him groggy and slow, but still leaving him aware of what his body was feeling. But James was fairly certain that he was enhanced. Was Peter enhanced too? If he was, how did it happen? Who did this to him? Was it the same people who shot him? Was it HYDRA? Did HYDRA take this innocent, pure child, and try to make him into a weapon, a monster, like they did to James? Is that why he was under no circumstances to contact Peter, was HYDRA afraid of what they could do to it?   
As these questions flashed through his mind, he found himself growing angrier and angrier. How dare they do this to Peter? How dare they take this precious, kind child, and try to turn him into a monster? What on earth had made Peter a target for this in the first place? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was it something else? He didn’t look to be much older than eighteen if he was a day, did his parents have something to do with this? He tried to calm down so that he didn’t scare Peter, but then he felt a hand, shaking slightly, place itself on his chest.  
“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad. I’ll take them if you want me to.” Peter’s voice was shaking, almost as badly as his hand on James’s chest.   
James shook his head. “Don’t. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” James put the pills down on the table next to the bed. He had to remember that he couldn’t get angry around Peter. The kid had obviously been through a lot. The very thought made him angry, but briefly. He had to stay calm so that he could help Peter.   
He went back to the pile of medical supplies on the bed and grabbed gauze, antiseptic, and a suturing needle and thread. He wasn’t sure if Peter would need sutures, and if he did, James wasn’t sure how he would be able to do it, as he only had the one metal hand, the one hand that he was sure would be steady enough to put them in correctly, but if Peter was enhanced he might need to use his left hand to hold Peter down so that he didn’t hurt himself, but they would cross that bridge when he got to it.  
“Can you lay down for me? I need to look at and clean your wound.” Peter did as he was asked, but he seemed hesitant, and he moved the blanket around his shoulders to cover his chest a bit better, which was strange, but James didn’t question it, because now he could see the wound.  
It didn’t look good. But it didn’t look infected either, so that was a relief. It was more like Peter hadn’t gotten any proper medical treatment for it, and had kept putting stress on it and the area around it, so the hole in his abdomen couldn’t close properly. There was a little bit of tearing around the it, like it had slightly healed over, but then got reopened. But there wasn’t as much blood as James feared there was, so there was that.   
James was beginning to get the feeling that he had over reacted, scaring Peter for no reason. It made something inside him twist at the thought of hurting Peter. He didn’t like it.   
James shock himself, and carefully began to clean out the wound. Peter doesn’t move, and doesn’t make a sound. James tries not to think about why Peter has such a high pain tolerance for someone of his age.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter didn't know what to think. He honestly didn't even notice when James told him to lay down, but his body apparently was on autopilot. His mind was racing. Why was James helping him? What had James even been doing in his backyard in the first place? Did someone send him after Peter, and if they did, did they know that he was Spider-Man, or just that he was Peter Parker? If James hadn't been sent, then why was he there? He seemed to think that Peter would be useful to him, on account of the fact that he was trying to help Peter, and, you know, the fact that Peter was still alive. Why him specifically? What was it about Peter that made James think that he could help him?   
James’s voice broke him out of the spiral that was his thoughts. “You don't need sutures, but I need you to sit up so that I can wrap it.” Peter stayed quiet as he sat up, under his own power, much to James’s visible chagrin. Honesty, it's not like this was the first time he had ever been shot, though the last time he had had Matt with him, and the man was the epitome of Catholic Guilt, so he wasn't sure if Matt even realizes how useless he had been there. The day that Peter lets Matt stitch him up, he’s unconscious and no one who knows who Matt is will have had any say in the matter.   
What was he doing? Why was he focusing on Matt? Actually, he should probably call Matt, make sure that he was okay. That fight two weeks ago had been rough, and Peter hadn’t called in a few days. Also, there was an assassin fixing him up, and he needed to check and make sure that no one had been sent after Matt. Though he still didn’t know why James was here.  
“Can I ask you a question?” At James’s hesitant nod, Peter continued. “What were you doing in my backyard in the first place? Cause New York is pretty far from D.C. if you’re going on foot, and I doubt you would make it past airport security with that arm of yours.” James’s lips twitched a little at that, like he was trying to smile, but couldn’t really remember how. The expression was familiar though. Peter had seen it every day for years, looking back at him in the mirror when he was trying to figure out how to pretend that he was okay. It made his chest ache.  
——————  
“I was looking for someone, someone who could help me. Someone who could help me hide from… bad people. Maybe even help me take them down once I break through the remains of the programming, or at least help me find them. I didn’t know exactly where they were, but I was told to not go to them by the people that hurt me. They were afraid of them, of what they could do, of what they would and wouldn’t. They said that The Child, as they called them, to me at least, would oppose them, no matter how hard they tried to program it out of them.”   
James had no idea where that last bit had come from, he didn’t even know if it was true, but it was too late to take it back, Peter didn’t look like he knew what James was talking about, but James had heard his breathing catch, his heart rate jump. That wasn’t good.  
“Why don’t you get some rest. I’ll set up a perimeter.” Peter nodded after a bit, and scooted closer to the middle of the bed and laid down, pulling the blanket closer to himself. He looked exhausted. James nodded, and left the room, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t let himself seeth yet, not till he was sure Peter was safe. But as soon as everything had been dealt with, Peter’s safety mostly, but he also needed to wait until he was sure Peter was sleeping deeply so that he wouldn’t wake easily before he could rein his anger back in. It wouldn’t help anything if Peter was scared of him. James sighed and, after locking all of the doors and windows, went to go set up a perimeter of traps around the house. It had already been a long day, and it was only going to get longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone actually want me to continue this? Is this even good? Can someone tell me please.


End file.
